


Call My Name

by seblaiens



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [8]
Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-08 19:48:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7770721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seblaiens/pseuds/seblaiens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam/Rafe phone conversations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "Can you ignore that last text? It wasn’t meant for you. I’m sorry."

Samuel Drake, 9:03 PM

_I just wish I could make him choke on my cock to get rid of his self-satisfied smirk any time we’re talking, ya feel?_

Samuel Drake, 9:03 PM

_Can you ignore that last text? It wasn’t meant for you. I’m sorry._

Rafe Adler, 9:05 PM

_Sam, I am shocked and delighted. Who was that for, and, more importantly, about whom?_

 

Rafe laughs as he sees Sam’s caller ID show up on his phone, and he picks up with a smirk on his lips.

“Well?”

“Ah,” an embarrassed laugh escapes Sam, “that was meant for Harry.”

“And who do you want to, well, how did you put it? Choke on your-”

“I remember what I wrote,” Sam interrupts him.

Rafe laughs and gets comfortable on his bed, closing his eyes as he listens to Sam’s breathing over the phone. He’s pleasantly buzzed – he’s had a few glasses of wine while taking a break from answering emails from potential customers and suppliers. His emails tend to pile up if he doesn’t check them over the weekend.

“So?” Rafe asks and strokes over his his chest to straighten his dress shirt. He almost moans out loud, he’s that desperate for some action.

“Rafe, believe me, it’s better for both of us if we don’t have this conversation.”

“Aw, come on, Sammy boy,” Rafe mumbles as he lets his hand reach his pants, opening up the button and the zipper there. “I was looking forward to exchanging some… _ideas_.”

He can hear a door close at the other end of the line, and then a bed creak as Sam lays down on his own bed. A smile spreads over Rafe’s lips as he can hear Sam sigh, probably giving up on his inhibitions and morals.

“Yes, I was talking about you. As if your ego needs any more of a boost.”

“You should have told me this in person, I might have done it,” Rafe mumbles as he pushes down his pants and underwear, taking his hardening cock in hand and stroking himself lightly. The thought of being on his knees in front of Sam with the other man’s hands in his hair and his cock in his mouth makes Rafe moan out loud.

“Christ, Rafe-” he can hear the rumpling of clothes and Sam’s uneven breath, “are you-”

“No, I’m moaning because I’m thinking about dessert,” Rafe rolls his eyes, momentarily taken out of the moment, “of course I’m touching myself.”

“What- what are you doing, exactly?”

“Taken off my pants,” Rafe says after he clumsily reaches for the lube in his nightstand, “stroking myself, thinking of your cock.”

“Oh Christ,” Sam sighs again, and Rafe can hear the shudder in his breath as he starts masturbating. “I’m going to hell for this.”

“I’ll see you there.”

Rafe groans as he moves his fist over his cock, all the while thinking about Sam being there, next to him, being the one touching him like this and _more_. He thinks about Sam above him, their tongues meeting each other while Sam thrusts into him, makes him _take it_ -

“God, I want to fuck you so bad,” Sam says just as Rafe comes with a strangled moan, his come shooting over his fingers and onto his abdomen. He lifts his hand up to his mouth and tastes his come, closing his eyes and pretending it is Sam’s instead.

“I bet you taste so good, Sam,” Rafe mumbles, and he can hear Sam shout as he’s coming as well.

“Huh, well,” Sam laughs after a few seconds of silence. “Glad we talked about this.”

“I’m serious, Samuel,” Rafe says, his eyes already closing from his orgasm induced tiredness, “just say the word, I’ll be on my knees.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Good night, Rafe.”

“Night night, Samuel.”

Rafe ends the phone call with exactly that self-satisfied smirk Sam seems to hate about him.


	2. “I’m tired of missing you.”

Rafe smiles when he sees his phone light up, Sam’s caller ID showing up on the display. He gets comfortable on the couch of the hotel room before answering, cuddling a pillow to his chest, pretending it is his boyfriend.

“Hello, Samuel,” he answers, not able to make it sound like he’s _not_ smiling from ear to ear. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Hey, babe,” Sam’s tired voice answers, “You always think about me, don’t you?”

“Of course,” Rafe laughs, rolling his eyes. There’s a short pause where neither of them says anything, before Sam bravely disturbs the silence.

“How’s New York?”

“Cold, rainy. How’s Seattle?”

“The same.”

Silence again. Rafe hears Sam clear his throat, knows that Sam always does it when he’s about to get mushy and doesn’t want to sound too clingy.  The question comes eventually.

“When will you be back?”

“I don’t know yet,” Rafe answers, lying down on the couch, taking the pillow with him and curling around it. “There’s a lot more to do than I previously thought. I was in a meeting for five hours today and I swear to god we didn’t resolve one issues, didn’t even get close to a compromise.” Rafe stops himself. He knows Sam gets bored easily when he begins talking about business, but he can’t stop himself sometimes, has to get his frustration out somewhere.

“I miss you. I’m _tired_ of missing you.”

“I’ll be back soon,” Rafe says, quietly, closing his eyes and listening to Sam’s breath on the other end of the line. He knows Sam suffers when he’s gone for so long - Seattle has never been his kind of city. Rafe regrets the decision they made to stay there, instead of moving to Boston, where Sam had grown up.

Or maybe they should have just chosen a completely different city. Start fresh somewhere new. Rafe could handle his business from somewhere else, given enough time and resources.

 _I miss you as well_ , he wants to say, but the words are stuck in his throat and he can’t get them out, no matter how hard he tries. He still can’t seem to be honest about his feelings.

“I’ll tell you as soon as I book my flight,” he says instead, closing his eyes and cringing at himself.

He listens to Sam’s soft, disappointed sigh before he says his goodbye, hangs up before Rafe can say anything else. He lets the phone drop onto the floor next to the couch, wrapping both of his arms around the pillow, pressing it tightly against his chest.

Just a few more days. Maybe a week. Anything longer than that, and he’ll tell the others to fuck off and call him when they’d worked out a deal.


End file.
